Riverside Community College to get a "Levitican Visit"

That's right, the "God Hates Fags" people are set to protest at RCC tomorrow night from 7-8 p.m. The occasion? The first night of RCC's production of The Laramie Project. From their own website, and yes, I sacrificed an unblemished goat and washed my hands after going there....
11/20/2008
7:00 PM - 8:00 PM
Riverside, CA
Landis Performing Arts Center - Laramie Project alert! 4800 Magnolia Ave Matthew Sheperd was murdered for drugs and money, but he also happened to be a fag. This evil country immediately started and proliferated the loud lie that Matthew Sheperd was killed because he was a fag = hate crime. Ignore the fact that killing someone is necessarily hateful, and that all these goofy new notions of laws and such are just a big, fat lie! Let's just focus on these facts: Le 18:22 Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. Le 20:13 If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them. Matt's in hell for 10 years now. Eternity - 10years = ETERNITY! Deal with it.
AMEN!"

There's a counter-protest; show up from 5-6 p.m. to get set up. More from the Jeffery Owens Community Center in Riverside:

Counter Protest
Thursday, November 20th between 5 and 6PM!! (We need to show up early before Fred Phelps arrives)
Riverside Community College Theatre, 4800 Magnolia Avenue, Riverside, CA

CAUTION: We must NOT fight hate with hate. We must NOT instigate Fred Phelps and his group. We must NOT react back to Fred Phelps (We have to act as if he is not there at all). The purpose of us being there is to block him out, block him out from families (especially the children) that will be walking up to the auditorium. Block out his explicit dialogues and block his face from being seen.

Fred Phelps usually carries signs that says the following: "God Hate Fags," "Matthew Shepard 10 Years in Hell," "Homo sex is a sin," or "AIDS cures fags." Obviously, we must carry signs opposite of those, opposite of hate.

By the way, God Hates Shrimp, too.

Abominations in Leviticus 11

(Note: Quotations are from the Stone edition of the Tanach)
These shall you abominate from among the birds, they not be eaten -- they are an abomination: the nesher, the peres, the ozniah; the daah and the ayah according to its kind; every orev according to its kind; the bas hayaanah, the tachmos, the shachaf, and the netz, according to its kind; the kos, the shalach, and the yanshuf; the tinshemes, the kaas, and the racharm; the chasidah, the anafah according to its kind, the duchifas, and the atalef. (Leviticus 11:13-19)

Every flying teeming creature that walks on four legs -- it is an abomination to you. Only this may you eat from among all flying teeming creatures that walk on four legs: one that has jumping legs above its legs, with which to spring upon the earth. You may eat these from among them: the arbeh according to its kind; the sal'am according to its kind, the chargol according to its kind, and the chagav according to its kind. Every flying teeming thing that has four legs -- it is an abomination to you. (Leviticus 11:20-23)

Every teeming creature that teems upon the ground -- it is an abomination, it shall not be eaten. Everything that creeps on its belly, and everything that walks on four legs, up to those with numerous legs, among all the teeming things that teem upon the earth, you may not eat them, for they are an abomination. Do not make your souls abominable by means of any teeming thing; do not contaminate yourselves through them lest you become contaminated through them. (Leviticus 11:41-43)

Blogging Leviticus, part 2

Check out The Brick Testament, which is a lot of fun--and really, how often can you say that about Leviticus?

Leviticus chapters 5 through ten get further into the niceties of atonement and sacrifice: when you need to find an unblemished goat, calf, or ram and bring them to the priest; when and how the sons of Aaron make cereal (actually, frybread) offerings; and which priests get the white meat and which the drumsticks. Moses and Aaron put their newfound knowledge into practice, sort of like doing a comprehensive hands-on exam, only in front of G*d, which I suspect would be nerve-wracking--especially since if you mess up (as did Aaron's sons Nadab and Abihu), you'll die on the spot.

Whew. At last, in Leviticus 11, we get into familiar territory: what's kosher and what's not. Now here's a whole chapter on eating that, I think, offers raw material for California's next proposition. By the way, check out God Hates Shrimp to find some suggestions for Levitical political action. 

Having just returned from Quebec City, a lovely place with a native cuisine that makes much of maple syrup and wild game (boar knuckles, caribou bourguignon--not kidding!), I'm feeling rather inured to meat-shock. Oh, okay, I've come to tell myself. People will eat almost anything. My father, for example, used to buy jars of pickled pigs' feet and snack on them, can be counted on to eat giblets at Thanksgiving, and has reported having eaten such things as only Anthony Bourdain might encounter on an extreme food tour.

But back to Leviticus. I'm pretty sure that Dad hasn't ever eaten rock badger or camel, so that's good. His having eaten rabbits, seafood, horse, and snake ("tastes like chicken," he says) is trouble, though. 

And me without an unblemished goat.....

Me'Shell NdegéOcello--Leviticus: Faggot

Go here for lyrics.

Exploring Leviticus, part 1

Since my LGBT brothers and sisters keep getting Leviticus 18 thrown at us (y'know, the part where you're not supposed to "lie with a man as with a woman" because it's "an abomination"), I thought I'd do a little exploration of Leviticus to see what else we might want to include in our next California initiative drives. So far, nothing springs to mind; Leviticus 1 is all about how to properly prepare animal sacrifices--lots of splashing of blood and snapping birds' heads off--and Leviticus 2 is about grain/cereal offerings. That section was fun, because I found out that God likes salt (Leviticus 2:13), and so do I, and that makes me feel a bit more kindly toward him (Him?).

Leviticus 3 brings back the animal sacrifices, only in more detail. More blood-splashing, but also some careful notes on the "fatty membrane over the internal organs" (3:3, 3:9, 3:14--I'm probably missing one, but it's making me a bit queasy). I was a bit alarmed to learn that "All the fat belongs to the LORD" and that I wasn't to partake of it. I mean, what fun is salt if you can't have fat? That's interfering already with the Holy Food Trinity (salt, fat, potatoes). What's next? All french fries belong to the LORD? What a relief to discover in the commentary that it's just internal organ fat that's off limits. I can live with that.

Leviticus 4: wow, more blood, this time with priests dipping their fingers in it and sprinkling it about. A question: If we're going to be held to Levitical law, then are we to be held to Levitical atonement? Because my sense of it is that we "No on 8" opponents might have a hard time finding enough "unblemished goats" to slaughter, gut, and burn. I wonder if they have to be organic or free-range.

More in a bit. I feel hungry for bacon.

For now, the "hurray for Obama" stuff rings hollow. As Harvey Fierstein wrote, Tuesday's results were "Historic for Some, Same Old Shit for the Rest of Us."

It was ironic, in all of our joking about "moving to Canada" should the election go badly, that the LAW and I actually ended up here on Nov. 5. I'm so incredibly angry and sad right now, it is a type of mourning. In that sense, it's probably good I'm up in the cold hinterlands instead of trying to engage in business-as-usual at work.

Sigh. I had an obsessive interest in the "No on Prop 8" movement before Tuesday's disastrous vote. I maintain that interest, as does the LAW, who last night plowed through the long brief filed in one of the three lawsuits challenging the result. I feel sick and sad, tired, as if my system has turned on the lethargy switch to keep my rage in check. I don't know what to do with this right now, except white-knuckle it through to the next fight for my "humanity."

So I'm not feeling the hope. Instead, as I've posted on my "facebook" page for days on end, I'm "still just an effin' faggot whose status as a human being is up for popular vote."

I love wordle.

Wordle.net, that is.

Really, it's not that different from my regular job...

Today's project was the chicken coop, which needed a good mucking-out. I carted out about a dozen wheelbarrows-full of chicken poop and old sawdust, two hornet's nests, several piles of old eggs, and a dead chicken that I found about 6 inches underneath the surface. After refilling the coop with clean sawdust, my work was done.

How the mighty have fallen.

Sigh.

At wal-mart again.

FW: Howdy from Msla

Hangin out with the missing kids posters in walmart (in my new panama jack hat).

Holiday 2007: The "Sir" Tour

I love to travel, especially because I get to challenge gender expectations around the world. Whether it's the "m'sieur" in Paris or the "sir/ma'am/whatever" in Mississippi (okay, that last one happened to a friend of mine, not to me...but it's a good one), language fails me in the honorific. Soooo..... this year, the first "sir" of the holiday season:

Dec 16, 11:30 a.m. Mountain Time: At the "Que Bueno!" Mexican grill in the Denver airport. I'm en route to Missoula with a 2-hour layover. On a scale of 1-5, this mishap was a "1," really, since the cashier auto-corrected before he got to the "r" in "sir," so it was really a "what kind of soda do you want, siiii(r)ma'am?"

But the tacos were good. I wonder if the beef came from a boy or a girl cow.

Seriously, it's Bingo night here in Toledo, Oregon. I've already won a plate of cookies baked by the high school home ec teacher.

In the magical land of green chiles...

The view for much of the time here in Albuquerque.

Albuquerque pt 1

Maybe I need a new hat?

First Sills...now Pavarotti?

Okay, if death comes in threes, a lot of still-living opera icons need to be extra-careful these days. Sigh.

Random crow thoughts (and meet my daemon)

Well, it's true I'm a great fan of the corvid family--crows, jays, magpies. By the way, has anybody not read Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy? Because seriously, it's one of the best things out there.

Another great thing having to do with Corvidae: Joni Mitchell's "Black Crow," from her 1976 album Hejira.

... In search of love and music
My whole life has been
Illumination
Corruption
And diving, diving, diving, diving.
Diving down to pick up on every shiny thing,
Just like that black crow flying
In a blue sky...

Look, Ma, no hair.

I cut my own hair this last week. The LAW, in her way, approved: "It doesn't look nearly as bad as I thought it might." Seriously, though, I thought how hard can it be? Use a #8 on top and a #4 on the sides; that was my compensation for my lack of expertise (when I have someone else cut it, it's a #7 and a #2). Besides, good gel can fix a variety of ills.

I've been reading pulp/thriller/detective novels: Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's "Pendergast" series: Relic, Reliquary, Dance of Death, Cabinet of Curiousities, etc. A couple by Elizabeth Sims, including Holy Hell; T. Jefferson Parker's Blue Hour and Red Light.

And that's just in the last week.

At the same time, I've been trying to finish up my part of a paper I'm writing with Jonathan, so I've been re-reading Donna Haraway and cursing my brain for its slow, pudding-in-a-lint-trap behavior on matters professional.

An excerpt, to show I care:

To explore this phenomenon, we will bring together two key discussions in contemporary composition studies: (1) emotion, affect, pathos; and (2) the extent to which our students (and we, ourselves) are “cyborg,” to borrow from Haraway. In looking at the intersections of these topics, we will explore how today’s writers might make sense of subjectivity(ies) and literacy(ies) in the new media era. To what extent do we attempt to colonize students’ subjectivities through insistence on old technology/ textual models? To what extent is this colonization a preemptive strike against cyborged subjectivities more fully coming into being? What we want is a strong sense of how we discuss, with our students, technology and subjectivity in ways that extend beyond the cool critical thinking skills we can develop with videogames, or the *** of working with iMovies. Indeed, we want to push for something more, a (dare we say) humanistic, but still critical, approach to technology, particularly the new communications technologies.

Earworm play

My brother John and I compete to see who can get the most wretched songs stuck in the other person's head. Not by singing--mais non! We can just type lyrics at each other over MSN Messenger. We are cursed, it seems, with lyric recall and a propensity for phonological loops. The winners today:

1. Morning Train, Sheena Easton
   My baby takes the morning train / He works from nine till five and then / He takes another home again / To find me waitin' for him
   [Note: honestly, this is the champion earworm. It wins every time.)
   
2. Sad Eyes, Robert John
   Sad eyes, turn the other way / I don't wanna see you cry / Sad eyes, you knew there'd come a day / When we would have to say 'goodbye'
   [Note: this is especially fun if you get the key change in at the end)
   
3. Nobody, Sylvia
   Well, your 'nobody' called today / She hung up when I asked her name / Well, I wonder / Does she think she's being clever (Clever, ooh, ooh)
   
4. Jesus Loves the Little Children
   

Cheese, Grommit!

Brin de paille. A cheese that, to translate from the back of its little package, "surprises everyone with its melting heart and the finesse of its aroma." It comes on a round of wood, atop a little bundle (brin) of straw (paille). Air it out, smear its melting little heart on some crusty coarse bread, and you will have a new love in France. It's like butter's sexy older sister.

Below, from YouTube, "Le chat avec un brin de paille!" You'll get the idea.

Last night, we took a long walk, from our apartment here in the 13th arrondissement down to the 5th, where we had dinner at the Foyer Vietnam (my current favorite Vietnamese restaurant); and then down to the Seine, crossing at Pont Neuf; then going down to the river itself on the right bank, since it's plage season in Paris. That's right, two miles of beach constructed next to the Seine each summer. In the evening, it's not particularly full, but the people who are there are making the most of it--artists crafting fabulous sand sculptures (next to the sculpture, a box with a few hopeful euros and a handwritten "MERCI" above); kids playing in big temporary fountains; a group with guitars and a hookah.

We're off to Honfleur for a couple of days. A revoir (until Wednesday).